He doesn't even remember where he learned tango. Not a single memory he can pull from his head can fill the absence of learning to dance, let along tango. But apparently, when you need saving from being alone in the middle of a ballroom, he suddenly knows how.
He (I won't use the word force but it was definitely against your will) asked you to join him for an important gathering. He called it a "simple event", but the outfit he made you wear and the giant fucking ballroom it was held in told you otherwise.
Thankfully it didn't start off bad. Practically no one bothered you, the food was delicious, and the drinks made everything just a little funnier. No, it wasn't only until the dancing came up did you run into a problem.
Some random man had pulled you to the dance floor when Capitano wasn't looking. It wasn't actually that big of a deal, as he wasn't a bad guy just a little annoying, but after the music changed to something less waltz-like into a more... intimate atmosphere, he left quickly.
Which left you stranded in the middle of room, alone, while the music kicked up and no one joined the floor. No one, until you felt that familiar build against your back.
Letting the music guide you two, Capitano led you across the room. Hands on eachothers bodies, you sauntered along side him, moving with the beat of the strings that played so closely. He'd spin you, you'd let him dip you, together you ruled the floor. It was a battle of dominance against the music that neither of you wanted to lose.
Striking your final pose, you two quickly shuffled away from the crowd as they all cheered.
Now, clearly you too were a little wasted. So things led to other things and well... you ended up waking next to eachother the following morning.
Neither of you spoke about it again and to this day, Capitano still doesn't know how he learned tango.
Warnings/Tropes: body mutation, Non-Consensual medical testing, more character betrayal (perceived), personality changes, intrusive thoughts, chronic pain
Summary: Even after surviving the Abyssal pit, your survival was not yet over. Your arm was now flaring up in pain and the only way to get the medicine you need was from Dottore. You must also choose weather to stay in the palace or return to Mondstadt.
Masterlist Part 2
After what seemed like hours of poking, probing, slicing, and many other tests, Dottore lead you back to Capitano. Per his order.
“So how did someone without a vision survive an Abyssal Pit?” Dottore asks as he walked in front of you.
“I… I don’t know.” You answered sleepily. His tests had made you tired. Even though you didn’t want to do his stupid tests, it was the only way he would give you your medicine. I should kill him!
You stoped dead in your tracks. You’ve never thought of hurting someone before, let alone killing them. Ever since you had gotten out that abyssal nightmare, you were so much angrier and resentful than you had ever been.
Dottore look at you from over his shoulder, “come now, treasure. We don’t have time to stay still.”
He’d been calling you that since Capitano had left the room. You hated it, you weren’t some object for him to play with. You felt anger rise up to the surface again but you held it in. You tolerated it so you get your meds. He did give them to you, like he promised. The pain in your arm had faded but it did nothing to dull the pounding in your skull.
Dottore lead the way through more hallways. Hopefully making his way to Capitano. He halted in front of a door made of dark oak. He knocked twice.
“Enter” Capitano’s deep voice came through the door.
Dottore opened the door, letting you enter first. He stayed in the doorway.
“Your little finch.” He said bluntly before leaving, closing the door behind him. God, him and his nicknames!
“I hope he didn’t treat you harshly.” Capitano spoke from his spot at the deck at the far end of the room. He was still wearing his armor from before, along with his coat. You could still remember the softness of the fur lining the top.
“It could have gone better.” You replied.
“Hmmm.” He hummed. “On another note, I am unaware of any living arrangements you might have outside of Snezhnaya. That being said, if you have someplace you would like to be returned to, I can arrange it.”
You thought for a moment, “I used to live in Mondstadt.” You paused, just the thought of Mondstadt and people who lived there, made fury rise up in your chest. “But I don’t think I want to return there. I don’t think I would like to go anywhere.” You answered.
“That’s acceptable. You can remain here, there is a guest room, across from mine. I will show you later, first I must finish this.” He gestured to the papers in the desk. “You can feel free to wander the palace, or stay in here. It is your choice.” He said before going back to his work.
You spied a couch across from the doorway where you stood. You walked over and plopped down on your back on the soft cushions.
You let out a sigh. Dottore’s testing had tired you even more after the abyssal pit.
Not soon after did you doze off to the quiet haven of Capitano’s office.
You awoke with thick blankets covering you. The cushions were softer than you remember them being. Why does everything feel more comfortable after you wake up?
You lifted your head up slightly to find that you were no longer in Capitano’s office. You were in a large bed four poster bed covered with a white duvet. There were thin white curtains that ran from each post and connected to the other.
Wait! Did Capitano carry me to bed?
Your headache was finally gone, maybe you were just tired and had needed some sleep. You wandered to the door and opened it, there was a door on the opposite wall, that must be Capitano’s, if had put you in the guest room he said earlier.
You drifted into the hallway and made your way down it. If you were going to stay here you might as well learn how to navigate the palace without assistance.
Just when you were about to turn around a corner, you bumped into someone. You looked up to find a man with bright ginger hair.
“Oh… hello, you must be the one Capitano was talking about.” He grinned widely. “I’m Childe, by the way.”
He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down an other hallway before you even had time to reply “Come on, let’s go meet the others.”
(Yes I was listening to Laufey while writing this)
After the Natlan War, Capitano found himself in a particular situation.
You see, though he completed his mission and his soldiers were being returned to the ley lines, his body was the conduit for the bridge between them and the lines. Thus, even though he was still perfectly up and going, he couldn't leave Natlan for the foreseeable future.
With what he and his team did to help Natlan, he was welcomed quite warmly, despite being Fatui. However, he didn't really have a home.
Well, didn't have a home.
You, as a bearer of an ancient name and a hero of Natlan, were well taken care of. Your tribe had presented you with a nice home in an isolated jungle out west where you could live in peace for as long as you'd like.
Fighting along side the Captain was oen of your greatest pleasures, so when you were given a home with too much room for yourself, you made a deal: Capitano would stay in your home, perfectly welcome. In exchange for the free housing (and companionship that wasn't just people fawning over his strength), he would help take care of your home.
Thus, the beginning of a beautiful partnership began.
You two started out as acquaintances, then friends, before slowly morphing into lovers. It was natural, the time spent between you two moulding into something special.
The wedding was small. With your fellow ancient heroes, Mauvika, a couple of friends, and a handful of Fatui captains (who, ironically, cried the loudest). The Traveler officiated it, since apparently they were an honorary knight which counts as ordained in Mondstat, with Paimon at the side holding your rings with a little flower basket that she tossed petals from.
From there, you went out doing commissions while Capitano, excuse me- Thrain, stayed home and did the housework. It was perfect, he was perfect. And the both of your couldn't be happier. Well, as happy as you could be when some ginger regularly knocked on your door asking for a fight.
Childe found out you were pregnant and immediately went through three emotional stages in five seconds. Shock. Joy. Immediate overconfidence.
“We’re having a kid? That’s awesome! They’re gonna be so strong—”
“Childe, I’m still standing right here.”
He grinned sheepishly but didn’t tone it down much. After that, he became ridiculously involved in everything. He wanted to feel every kick, talk to the baby constantly, and somehow turned your pregnancy into a “training arc” in his head.
You had to stop him from asking if the baby could already handle a sparring session. But beneath the chaos, he was deeply tender. Late at night, his hand would rest over your stomach while his voice softened.
“I’ll protect you both,” he’d say quietly. “No matter what.”
And for once, it didn’t sound like bravado.
Capitano
Capitano went completely still when you told him. No immediate reaction. Just silence. Then he knelt in front of you.
“You should sit.”
That was the first thing he said. After that, Capitano became unwaveringly protective in the most controlled, steady way imaginable. He never panicked. Never raised his voice. But suddenly, everything dangerous around you stopped existing.
If you so much as frowned, he noticed instantly. He would place a hand gently against your stomach at night, standing like a silent guard over you both.
“I will ensure nothing reaches you,” he said once.
And you believed him without question. Because Capitano didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
Dottore
Dottore laughed when you told him. Not cruelly. More like fascinated.
“Oh? That’s unexpected.”
You narrowed your eyes immediately.
“Don’t.”
He sighed dramatically but didn’t stop studying you like you were the most interesting phenomenon in the world. Your pregnancy became a mix of scientific curiosity and rare, possessive care. He monitored everything, your health, your symptoms, the baby’s development, constantly. He would absolutely deny it mattered emotionally.
But when he thought you weren’t looking, his hand would linger just a little too long over your stomach.
“Interesting,” he muttered softly once when the baby kicked. “They’re responsive already.”
Then he paused.
“Good.”
That was the closest thing to affection you were getting out of him.
Pantalone
Pantalone smiled the moment you told him. Not surprised. Not shaken. Just pleased.
“I see,” he said calmly. “Then I’ll begin adjusting arrangements immediately.”
You blinked. “Arrangements?”
He leaned in and gently took your hand.
“For your comfort. For the child’s future. For anything you might need.”
Your pregnancy became something Pantalone quietly, obsessively ensured was perfect. Everything was provided for you without question. Anything you even glanced at was already being arranged. But his softness appeared in private moments.
When he sat beside you at night, one hand resting over your stomach while he spoke quietly about the life he planned for your child. Safe. Secure. Completely cared for. And for someone who dealt in wealth and control. This was the only thing he ever truly treated as priceless.
Warnings/Tropes: body horror/mutation, hurt, Non-Consensual Medical Testing (Implied), mild angst, Character Betrayal (Perceived)
Summary: Your cold and distant savior leads you out of the Abyssal Pit and into an unknown winter wasteland.
Masterlist Part 1 Part 3
You stayed close to your cold savior. He hadn’t spoken another word since you had started walking. You held your now purple arm to your chest, it ached with each beat of your heart now. Getting worse by the minute.
You didn’t know if your savior knew where to go, to get out of here. But following him was better than sitting in your own sourness. You knew Jean had tried to catch you, but you couldn’t help but feel like she had abandoned you. She couldn’t have jumped after you and saved you in time, could she? If she had jumped, could she have saved you from this. Your arm, shoulder, and part of your jaw now mutated with fowl Abyssal sorcery. She saved Diluc first, not you. How could she?
It felt as if you had been walking for hours. Maybe it had been hours, there was no where to tell what time it was in this god forsaken place.
Your savior lead you to a cave. He wasn’t hoping we could take shelter in that cave was he?
As if he could hear your mind he said “This cave will take us out of here.”
“Will it take long?” You asked, you didn’t think you could take much more walking.
“No, we don’t have to go in very far to get there.” He looked down to your now shaking legs, he studied you for a moment before walking closer to you.
“What… what are you doing?” You questioned.
He said nothing as he grabbed your waist and hoisted you over his shoulder.
“I’m a grown woman! I can walk myself!” You grunted at him and you hit is back slightly.
“Your legs are shaking.” He stated as he carried you toward the mouth of the cave. Like that solved it.
The violet starlight disappeared into pitch blackness as you both entered the cave. It seemed to only be a minute or two before light gave way to light again.
You felt the cold even before you had exited the cave. Bitter, numbing cold, for a second you were glad for your saviors warmth. The fur atop his coat shielding your still normal arm from the cold. The opposite one seemed entirely unfazed by the cold.
When the cave gave way to the open world again. You were out in the middle of an icy wilderness, no trees, no life, the only thing other than never ending snow you could see was a large structure. It was blurry and blocked by a cloud of mist.
Your savior carried you the whole way. When the clouds of mist finally parted to let you both in you could see the rich architecture of what seemed to be a town. With a huge castle in the middle.
You stared in awe. This place was captivating, “what is this place?” You asked.
“This is Snezhnaya. And that…” he gestured to the castle, “is Zapolyarny Palace.”
He continued walking, to the palace. The roads were paved with smooth dark grey stone, withered by weather and traffic. The sky above was a pale grey overcast, and a never ending drizzle of snow fell down.
You passed houses and shops, till you were both meet with the massive entrance to the palace. Two Fatui guards opened the doors, the tipped their heads respectively to your savior, paying little mind to you.
Your savior gently set you down on your feet. His hands stayed on your shoulders for a second two long.
“Well, well, what do you have here? What little pet have you brought into the palace, Capitano?” A voice called behind you.
Capitano. That was his name.
You turned to find man slightly smaller than Capitano. His glasses shimmered in the light. Dark colored locks of hair run down to his shoulders curling slightly.
“I found her in an Abyssal Pit. She survived.” Capitano stated blandly.
Your now mutated arm flared in pain again. You clinched it to your chest with a grunt, rubbing it to try to dim the pain.
Capitano looked down at you, hearing your grunt. He placed his hand on your back, “Come, let’s see Dottore. He can help with the pain.”
He lead you further into the palace. The man with glasses glanced at you briefly as you passed. He looked to your savior “Capitano.” He said with a tip of head.
“Pantalone.” Capitano replied. He didn’t even gaze at him.
He lead you down multiple hallways, and a few staircases, twisting and winding into the palace. No wonder he could find a way out of the abyssal nightmare, that was a piece of cake compared to this.
He stoped at door he opened it to reveal what look to be a lab of some sort. Selves covered the walls, littered with medicine bottles and box’s of ingredients. Two tables took up the space in the middle of the room, filled with more bottles, flowers, and herds.
The man at the table looked up from his work. His face was half covered with a mask. The usual mask every Fatui wears.
He looks to Capitano, “I hope this is important.”
“It is. She needs something for the pain.” Capitano stated.
“I’m not a physician, Capitano. You can get pain meds from someone else.” Dottore said as he looked back at the bottles on the table.
“I think you will see, she could help your studies.” Capitano countered.
Dottore looked up, he finally noticed your arm. His head tilted in curiosity, he stood from his chair walking towards you.
“How ever did that happen?” He asked as his hands pried your arm from where it was clinched to your chest.
“I touched some mud in the…” You looked to Capitano.
“Abyssal Pit.” He answered.
Dottore gasped slightly, “Fascinating. I think I can get you those meds. But first, a few tests.”
You looked to your savior. He nodded his head. “Come find me when the two of you are done, Dottore.” Capitano demanded.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Dottore quickly replied, rummaging though the selves.
note: for context, this is the second post of the reader being the tsaritsa's daughter. reminder that these are strictly platonic due to reader physically being a teenager!! see post here. might be ooc. (prob is lowk) pierro and pulcinella are really short considering there's not much on them..
lore spoilers!!
ps: part 2!!!
00: the jester, pierro.
to say you didn't like him was an understatement. you met him shortly after he joined your mother's band of fools, as you liked to call them. he was cordial and at first, you liked him enough. he'd share stories about his days as the mage of the vinster king before the cataclysm. similar stories your father used to share about his own family in khaenri'ah. and you'd listen, partly from interest and the other half because it seemed no one else wanted to approach you because of your fragile condition.
though, when you began seeking your mother after recovering enough strength to leave the warmth of your chambers with thick clothes and shivering hands, he became an insurmountable obstacle. it was like he could sense your presence at the massive doors to the throne room or one of the many council rooms in the palace. he'd beat you to the door, closing it behind him with a gentle click to prevent you seeing your mother and he'd escort you back to your chambers.
eventually the attempts became more frequent and more desperate than the last, your younger self homesick for a mother that was so far yet so close at the same time.
in one of the last few attempts you made to try and see your mother for at least a second, he'd finally gone cold.
"your mother refuses to see you, child. behave as the duchess you are and see yourself to your room and recover."
he had shut the door in your face.
from that day, you made it a point to avoid him, and he accepted it without a thought. though, there were still a few moments in which he quietly watched over you between the centuries. moments in a warm room where you let your violin echo your loneliness, or the few times you were outside for a few minutes. your face would crumble as the sun which once felt overwhelmingly warm to you now did nothing against the curse on your body, still freezing your hands and arms even with thick coats.
as time progressed and decades passed, you'd make your disdain clear with side glares and dismiss his reprimands with meaningless and empty promises. though on the very rare occasion you tolerated his presence, you'd listen to his stories like you did centuries ago, because in that aspect, it was like a glimpse of your father lingered on in his tales of khaenri'ah.
01: the captain, capitano.
the relationship between the two of you was oddly meaningful. the man was as quiet as a mouse when the two of you were alone. you weren't blind; you knew he and many of the harbingers only kept you company to keep an eye on you. because of that, you didn't find the formidable man intimidating, but a man with wise words and great intellect.
when you picked up the sword after being bedridden for such a long time, your steps weren't even close to your former prowess. once a child who wielded the blade and polearm with the vigor of a graceful warrior now tripped and staggered with simple movements. yet he often sat in silence, watching the flaws in your stance and with a deep voice, he'd point them out.
"your feet are too far apart and your arms are too close to your body." his footsteps were heavy on the thick carpet. he knew better than to be too close to you, his cryo capabilities would freeze your skin. instead, the scabbard of your sword pushed your arms a few inches to your right side.
"having a firmer base and keeping your feet light will allow you to move like a swan and strike with the strength of a tiger."
some days, he'd come around just to watch you get back up to your feet. he'd heard about your achievements in your youth (wonder from who), and watching you struggle to keep up with simple exercises made something in him want to see you improve. other times. he'd simply come and drink tea in silence, listening to you vent your frustrations about your swordsmanship, and most importantly, your mother.
when your body started adapting to your curse, he started dueling you. while your limbs started freezing over and showing signs of fatigue, he looked like a boulder being brushed by a light breeze. when the jester heard about it, he discouraged the practice and relayed that your mother found it unwise. but you stopped listening to anything that came from him. you made it obvious you wouldn't listen unless your mother said it face to face.
the captain, despite his loyalty to your mother, couldn't refuse your demand to keep training you. and so he did, even when your body was at its limit and your fingers turned a deep cerulean. he was harsh, but by the time you were collapsed on the carpet shivering, he had already draped a thick blanket over you and ordered a servant to bring tea. it was through him that you learned how to insulate your body with the own coldness of your flames.
then when your body warmed enough to stand and move slowly, you'd sit and drink tea together in silence. it was poetic, how a man who was slowly eroding was teaching a child cursed with the same fate. though one day, you were tempted to ask about the thing that plagued you the most.
"what lies beyond your hat, thrain?" he was calm about it, as if he had been prepared for years.
"a face disfigured by time and the consequences of sinners." you could only assume he meant the same erosion that was chiseled into your left hand. dark blue coloring and cracks of light blue creeping up your arm, so different from the half of the curse that affected your vision.
as the years went by, you regained some of your former prowess, and even thrain had to admit that he was putting in effort in defeating you. you weren't near his level, clearly, but you were scarily close considering the curse that burned you at both ends.
shortly before he left for natlan, he confided in you. in came in simple conversation after one of your duels. he calmly his tea, faced clouded with darkness while you regained your breath and warmth. he told you of his anger of the pyro archon, the way the gnosis held the solution towards the night kingdom and ley lines.
of course, you knew the way they functioned. your limited freedom and confinement to the indoors often led you down rabbit holes of information found in the books in the library. but when he told you of the souls in his body and his plan for natlan, you shut down as a defense mechanism.
the day he left, he visited you one last time. you were quiet and distant, but despite that, he allowed himself to get close to you. he patted the top of your head and murmured goodbye before his heavy footsteps disappeared down the corridor.
when the news came of his dormant state, you allowed a single tear to escape the gap of your mask, for the man who was your mentor and made his peace.
but for now, your plan was set in motion.
02: the doctor, dottore.
you quickly found out the doctor was a complex and multifaceted man. his interest in you was quickly piqued, an order from the tsaritsa herself to monitor your wellbeing. you met him a few years after he became a harbinger, a young man expelled from the akademiya for illegal research with too much ambition and too much thirst for knowledge.
the laboratory created for him in the depths of the zapolyarny palace was cold, even by the standards of an acclimated snezhnayan. the first time you stepped foot in it (quite literally), ice crept up your leg and made it a dense block of ice before you could step back. servants had to carry you back to your chambers while dottore followed closely behind, muttering his observations.
your leg refused to thaw until he took the risk of placing fire on it directly. from then on, he made a makeshift lab in the corner of the drawing room in your chambers, visiting you a couple of times a month due to the tsaritsa's demands. you found that dottore was an unconventionally antisocial man. despite talking to himself about his observations and findings, he'd give you one word answers to the things to didn't understand.
"interesting. the compounds and composition hasn't been changed, yet the chemical traces suggest contradicting elements.. why is that?" he watched a small sample of your fire with fascination, seeing it gently lick a blank sheet of paper. in the blink of an eye, it became a thin sheet of ice that broke with a slight touch.
"what does that mean?" you swung your legs languidly with boredom.
"something."
eventually, begrudgingly, zandik, as you somehow forced out of him, found himself warming up to you. sometimes, he brought you sweets or played the piano in your room after the experimenting left you cold and weak. he even began to strike up irrelevant findings in his other experiments just to erase the awkward silence.
but then, his visits became weekly. he'd realized that for some reason, you weren't aging as you should have. sure, you were a godling, but even then, you should have aged until you reached adulthood. but a single year of human development became three for your internal timeframe, then five, then ten, and so on until you became physically stuck at the age of sixteen.
unlike you or pierro or thrain, zandik was human, despite all his attempts to become immortal. you watched his body become slower and strained, watched as wrinkles formed around his eyes and mouth. but he wasn't scared. one day, he told and showed you of his success. on one of your checkups, a boy around your age accompanied him and your heart nearly stopped.
he looked like your little brother, had he lived sans the red eyes.
segments, he called them, a way for him to remain immortal while decaying like a human. the boy was warmer than the original zandik, though he still carried the same sharp ambition and relentless intelligence.
when the original zandik died, you cried for hours, not because you were particularly close, but rather because he became someone else you lost. eventually as time passed and segments grew from children to old men, you stopped crying for them, and each segment strayed from the familiarity the original zandik had with you.
but perhaps out of the consciousness of their being, everytime one of the segments was close to their time, they'd leave with a farewell, something even zandik didn't do, in which you'd stubbornly say you'd see them the following week. of course, by then a younger segment had replaced them and continued as if nothing happened.
once the news from nod-krai and sumeru reached your ears, you did not weep for him. instead, you looked at the piano in your room and sat on the stool, fingers pressing the keys to a solemn melody, the same he played after tiring days. when the song ended, you could only glance back at the piano.
"for good, our final farewell, zandik."
03: the damselette, columbina.
she came to you a particularly lonely night. the palace was oddly quiet except for the gentle weeping coming from your cello, a rendition of a popular ballet piece from the korolevskiy troupe. the song served as the entrance of the grand dance between the male and female lead. you had seen it with your father and mother when it was first released, your little brother barely walking and babbling.
your mother naturally loved it, a grand orchestra piece made by a single composer, the song acting as a final goodbye to his beloved sister. (yes i love pas de deux) you didn't understand it then, too young to comprehend it, but old enough to have the melody remain in your mind. but by extension, you grew to understand why she adored it.
after all, the song was a final, grand act of love.
amidst the timbre of the cello, a soft voice hummed the voice. from surprise. the grip on your bow tightened and what could only be described as a squeal squeak out of the cello. you turned around, surprised to see her standing mere feet away from you. you hadn't heard her coming. she tilted her head, her voice as soothing as a balm for the soul.
"why did you stop?" your eyes tried to meet hers, only to find a crisscross blindfold over her shut eyes.
"i wasn't expecting people. did my mother send you?" you queried, distant but not unkindly.
"the tsaritsa? no, she did not. i was merely wandering about the garden, but the wind carried over the melody. what was it?"
"you've never heard of the grand step of two?" you asked with bewilderment, a break in the composure you were carefully building around yourself. "it's the korolevskiy troupe's best movement."
"i rarely get the chance to leave the palace." she hummed quietly. you took a few seconds to digest her words before placing your bow back on the strings and began playing the descending scale once again. this time, she familiarized herself with the scale before singing it back in cadence.
from then on, her voice became the harmony to the melody of your violin or cello, or even the piano in your room. her voice, soothing as it was, sometimes lulled you sleep in between playing and you'd wake up to her gone, the sleeping only becoming more frequent after the abyssal curse reached your neck. sometimes, you'd talk about mundane things.
"is it as good as everyone says? the play from the korolevskiy troupe?" she mused over tea.
"it's recognized across teyvat as one of the most successful ballet pieces. to think you haven't seen it, i can't deny it, it surprises me."
"perhaps you and i can go see it- oh. forgive me." you shook your head, the movement stiff with melancholy. with the raging winters, even stepping foot outside the palace would be enough to freeze you solid.
"just make sure you see it." you said with a sad smile.
the day she did, she came back to you a few days later. sandrone had accompanied her and cried during the second act, during the grand step of two. she confided in you then. the piece caused her to feel homesick. homesick to a place she never truly belonged and the exhaustion of being utilized for her ability.
you didn't know what it was. unlike the other harbingers, you had never seen her demonstrate any strength that belied her gentle appearance. but there had to be a reason why your mother ranked her so high. at first, it was only a mention that breezed past your thoughts, but eventually, you could see it in her face.
you didn't want to lose anyone else. sure, your heart had become colder and accustomed to death and loss, but even thinking about it made your gut clench as if to throw up. she was the first to simply coexist with you, the first to see you, not as the tsaritsa's daughter, but simply you.
at first, you tried to dissuade her with the obvious that your mother wouldn't tolerate treason against her or the fatui. if she got caught, it would be a death sentence. but you saw the smile on her face, melancholic and languid, her mind already set.
you let her go.
as expected, the rooster had issued the palestar edict on your mother's behalf. days passed following the chaos between the woman who was in fact, the trilune goddess, and zandik.
a single letter had been delivered to you, the emblem of the frostmoon scions colored on the back with a single sentence:
"we'll watch the korolevskiy troupe together someday."
the letter was burned to ashes in the fireplace.
the plan didn't leave room for hesitation.
04: the knave, arlecchino.
she was the first one to be sought out by you. it wasn't directly, but the ascension of the criminal who killed the former fourth harbinger to be her replacement had roused your curiosity. sure, lesser ranked harbingers or mortal ones were simply replaced once their time came, but to think it was mere child who defeated the fourth harbinger was astounding.
you rarely left your chambers for a couple of years. it was around this point where you began wearing a mask to hide your face. the curse had caught up to your face. you understood why thrain hid his, yours a disfigured atrocity that made you break every mirror in your chambers and refused dottore's checkups. even rosalyne, who you often sought out, was denied entry.
the guards stationed at the throne room didn't even stop you at the massive doors, staring at you with bewilderment before opening the doors. there alone in the grand space stood a white and black haired teenager around your physical age, her frame turning towards you. her eyes narrowed imperceptibly with suspicion.
"are you another harbinger?" she asked, though it came out more as a demand. you mere shook your head with a languid grace.
"a mere passer-by. i try to understand who the fools who serve my mother are." you climbed up the steps slowly, almost painfully. your vision had become more unpredictable with the centuries and instead of your body freezing every time the temperature was below your body's liking, it also started freezing things through your clothes, evident in the splotches of ice of the stairs where your feet were.
"mother?" she murmured before humming with realization as she looked at a lavish portrait in the throne room. the tsaritsa with a man, a little boy who looked just like her, and an older girl who took after her father with the tsaritsa's eyes. "you're the grand duchess."
you hummed absentmindedly. you avoided looking at the portrait, the change in what you looked like and now would have probably been another breaking point. instead, you fixed your gaze on her. "you're young for a harbinger, though i suppose life favors the victors." you paused. standing beside her, the ice beneath your feet melted and you felt a hint of warmth. it felt wonderful, the first time in nearly five hundred years in which you felt warm and not cold. "hmm.. perhaps one day, you could join me for tea."
she started coming over to your chambers often, surprising rosalyne who teased you for not inviting her over. simply put, it was refreshing having someone of similar age to you close, even more so someone as honest about her intentions. you found to be serious and stern, though sometimes when it was just the female harbingers and yourself at one of sandrone's tea parties, she'd relax.
her warmth was more than welcome, and you often found yourself falling asleep on her shoulder. often, she relayed what pierro told her about her heritage, about the fall of the crimson moon dynasty and the rise of the eclipse dynasty in khaenri'ah. sometimes, you would supply her with your own stream of information from years of reading about the matter.
the curses you shared, so different yet so similar at the same time only seemed to strengthen the amicable bond between the two of you. hers, which burned so brightly also burned and corrupted her soul. yours, which was once the brightest flame of them all reduced to a power that slowly killed your body from the sheer cold.
she told you of her past, growing up in the house of the hearth alongside the only friend she ever had and the cruel mother that tore the bond between them. her silence suggested the sheer cruelty. in turn, you told her the broader details of your disappearance from the public eye, why the citizens of snezhnaya hadn't seen the grand duchess for centuries.
the knave began leaving for fontaine throughout the year, now managing the house of the hearth her own way. you could see the changes in her, the way she began growing out her hair and wearing makeup to look older than she really was. you watched with a saddened heart and envy as the young girl became a truly formidable woman who cared deeply despite her aloof demeanor.
in the meetings that became less frequent, she began to talk about the children of the house. particularly a set of twins and a younger boy who was well versed with mechanics.
"freminet, he's talented in many areas, yet his lack of confidence holds him back." she said once, her voice much deeper than you remembered it. "you'd get along with him, considering your own expertise in the mundane." she said it as if you weren't a multi centennial being.
she noticed your unusual silence one day, thick and almost oppressive in nature. the tea that was usually in the table in front of you wasn't there, and neither was the cursed girl she grew to see as a valued friend and sometimes slept on her shoulder when the curse exhausted her.
"peruere." you started, voice low and pained. your heart and face burned, feeling the curse extend slightly further. "if the time ever came, where someone you loved dearly was at risk, and it went against the life you've constructed as a harbinger.. would you fight as the knave or as peruere?"
"where does this come from?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and intrigue. "i'd rather avoid that sort of thing. but in the hypothetical sense.. peruere."
she didn't understand it then, why she could sense you smile under the mask, but now after columbina was gods knows where because of dottore, the decision was much simpler to make as she clenched her fist with steady determination.
the moment she went back to snezhnaya, she went to see you. yet you did not open the door, not the first time, nor the second, or the third day.
you could only listen to her retreating footsteps as you sat against the wall, the room covered in ice as you shed the last tears you ever would.
05: the rooster, pulcinella.
he was much like pierro in terms of keeping you away from matters concerning the fatui. by the time he had come, you weren't interested anymore. you kept your distance from him. you had heard how he constantly twisted people's words against them and began rumors among the ranks about the other harbingers.
not only that, but it seemed the facade of the dedicated mayor who took care of ajax's was really just a means to control him. he was young, you knew childe trusted him implicitly, but you and most of the harbingers understood it was for leverage.
to you, he was just another obstacle in the way of you seeing your mother, but unlike the director, you didn't fight him. although if there ever came a time where he crossed the line, you were more than ready to put him in his place. you weren't a harbinger after all. the rules did not apply to you.
06: the balladeer, scaramouche.
you met him after one of dottore's checkups. the scientist told you of an interesting being he found while in inazuma, a puppet, hidden in the ruins of an old village. at first, it was just a mention until he quite literally crashed into you at the turn of a corridor.
he scoffed and walked away while you stayed winded for a bit, mostly because the captain had not gone easy during a duel and had you wanting to run away from the room.
you rarely saw him between going and leaving harbinger meetings or when you tried to seek out your mother despite the constant refusal from the jester or the rooster. he didn't pay you any mind, as if you were just another deluded person in the palace.
the first proper interaction you had with him was after your last attempt to see your mother. it had been successful, but the event that transpired left you feeling empty and cold. you found yourself in the balcony of one of the towers, not caring about your limbs as they became solid ice or the crystalization of the skin of your face. you didn't cry, but you never wanted to disappear as much as you did at that moment.
"to think the beloved grand duchess of snezhnaya isn't very beloved by the tsaritsa herself. amusing." his voice was as cold as the winter storm that raged outside the castle. you turned and looked at him, four pointed star pupils glaring at him with heat that contested the ice of your limbs.
"you cross a line, balladeer." your voice imitated the command in your mother's voice exceptionally well. "though, i must say that you are the pot calling the kettle black. the abandoned puppet of the shogun, that i fear, is far more depressing than my situation."
"i've made my peace with it." he scoffed. he stopped beside you, wearing only the black and purple clothes that were far too light for such a cold place. he couldn't feel it, you noticed. you envied it.
"if you made your way here to become a harbinger, then clearly, you have not. though, i can't exactly blame you for it." your teeth clattered together as frost covered your chin. he looked at you incredulously, before scoffing again.
"why are you here? are you really willing to suffer for the actions of someone who clearly doesn't want you near?" his words struck something in your and for that moment, they served their purpose. you clenched your jaw and went back inside the palace with difficulty.
there was a strange rivalry between the two of you, not oppressive, but that of two people with incredibly similar situations trying to coax the other to move on while clinging to the past. often, you'd find yourself in situations where you took turns insulting the other while other harbingers like dottore were around. it filled the room with light humor, considering that if any other person said those things to either one of you, they'd be missing by dinner.
however, the two of you also shared the appreciation of knowledge. it had come up in random conversation, but it stuck with you, his theory of a false sky. you found yourself invested in research about the possibility of it, eventually leading to your investigation of the four shades. particularly ronova, the shade of death.
when he started collaborating with dottore, you found yourself suspicious. you knew he wasn't over his past or the betrayals inflicted on him. but to become an artificial god, was a blasphemy that even you didn't consider wise.
"what are you trying to prove, scaramouche? that you can rewrite fate?" you asked him the night before he and dottore left for sumeru. he turned on his heels, answering as if it were the most obvious thing.
"fulfilling what i was created for. godhood is meant to be mine, even if it's achieved through unconventional ways." he scowled slightly. "maybe the reason you're curse hasn't gone away is simply because you let it control you."
you no longer remember him.
07: the marionette, sandrone.
you found the woman intriguing, really. you first met her when rosalyne invited you to her tea party on her behalf, dragging you along while telling you that it would be good for you. you simply let her, mostly because you didn't have anything better to do and you wanted to leave your chambers for a bit.
yet as you entered sandrone's room, what could only be described as a squeak left your lips as a giant automaton filled the room with its tall and rather wide frame.
"don't mind pulonia, take a seat." her voice was high and pompous. you sat next to rosalyne, naturally, far enough away to put some distance between yourself and the giant mecha. rosalyne never let you live your fear of pulonia down.
to say you were a bit terrified of her brilliance for mechanics was an understatement. her workshop was filled with books and parts used for mechas, complex where even your extensive knowledge of the sciences failed to grasp what half of it meant.
you rarely visited her workshop, as there wasn't much in common between the two of you. she tolerated you, as she put it, often spending time complaining about columbina's perpetual singing or rosalyne's habitual drinking habits. she did, however, find an interest in the aspect of your curse. she'd look at the frost on your hands that rarely went away and began ordering pulonia around, much to your dismay.
"why the interest?" you mentioned casually once, observing sandrone as she tinkered with a small device barely larger than a bracelet. she huffed slightly, shooting you daggers, her voice haughty and exaggerated.
"because every time you come over, i happen to find one of my teacups encrusted with ice." she pointed an accusing finger at you. "do you know how long it takes for it to melt?! or how many handles have been snapped off?! clearly gloves aren't going to be a long time solution so i'm making one."
"does that mean you want me at your tea parties? i'm honored." you teased with a small smile. she groaned and rolled her eyes
"please, i'm only doing this because i'd never hear the end of it from rosalyne." she muttered out. what she made was a carefully designed bracelet with constant heating. of course. the gadget froze over the moment it was placed on your wrist, leading to a groan from the woman.
she noticed the way that around her, you took after rosalyne and often teased her. it was probably one of the only things left that really showed that despite the curse, you were still a teenager. of course, whenever she did get annoyed, she'd "send" pulonia after you. she never really did, but watching you run out of the room was amusing enough.
she never did stop trying to build something for your hands. you were her guinea pig for the warming device, yet every time, it failed to work. she never got too discouraged, and by a few days later, you were pulled back into her workshop.
the teasing started dying down after years, as if the curse had hardened you, and it did, literally and metaphorically. but after rosalyne's death, it tanked, and not even threatening you with pulonia was enough to get you to act like before.
your presence at her tea parties became less frequent until you were just another empty seat.
08: the fair lady, la signora.
you were there when she became a harbinger out of formality, even though to had two servants flanking your side and helping you stand straight. you watched as pierro read your mother's decree out loud for the rest of the harbingers to hear. rosalyne-kruzchka lohefalter, the crimson witch of flames, to become the eighth fatui harbinger, and the title of la signora bequeath to her like a heirloom.
you only really met her when you were taken to the infirmary during a difficult night where you would not stop shivering. she was there, getting salve for the burns the liquid flame caused to her face. her eyes locked onto your frame, hiding beneath thick layers of blankets and sheets that barely did anything to stop the shivers.
"what's a kid like you doing here?" she asked kindly, the mondstadtian unaware of your royal blood. the servant beside you had looked at her with a pointed glare.
"this is the grand duchess and the tsesarevna, (name) anastasyevna." (yes matronymics) you were far too out of it to really listen to what they were saying, and eventually the cold brought you into a deep sleep. but when you woke up, you didn't see the servant, but rather rosalyne sitting beside you while reading.
she set down her book when she saw you stir slightly and gave a small smile. her hand was incredibly warm as it takes through the strands of your hair before settling on your cheek. surprisingly, frost didn't cover it and for the first time since you were cursed, someone gave you affection without the fear of your curse.
you quickly learned that your mother had specifically instructed her to look after you, mostly because it seemed that your skin didn't freeze with her touch and because the woman was instinctively maternal around children. as young as you were, you followed her around a lot when you were strong enough to walk like a duckling following its mother.
she never seemed to mind it, encouraged it, even. you, who never stepped foot outside of snezhnaya, often listened to her descriptions of her old home in mondstadt, though they were always laced with slight bitterness, and her studies in sumeru.
once you got better and began playing your instruments again, she often listened closely with a glass of wine, and in her eyes, a melancholy glazed her eyes, especially if the song was ever slightly solemn. you never questioned it. sometimes, she had sheet music sent from the other nations, ballads from mondstadt, anthems from sumeru, or folk songs from liyue.
in every aspect except blood, she became a partner in crime and something of a guardian. the two of you often teamed up to tease sandrone, more so when she began developing a bit of a temper. though you found yourself asking rosalyne more and more about your mother, which she always changed the topic to something else.
she was your constant source of heating, often finding yourself with your head on her lap while you complained about your mother or the endless checkups that she insisted. she'd pinch your cheek lightly with a light chuckle or rub the points of your ear when they were covered with frost. (she never lost that habit, even centuries later when you were taller than her and lost your childlike behavior.)
later in the centuries and after you had seen your mother, rosalyne remained as one of the people who had a deep bond with you. your new antisocial behavior made her push you into interacting with the other harbingers, such as sandrone and pantalone.
"what did the korolevskiy troupe perform this time?" peruere asked, handing over her plate for a slice of cake while you languidly sipped your tea beneath the mask.
"the mountain sparrow. you missed a good one." rosalyne answered, lying next to you on the couch, her hand twirling with your short (or tied up) hair. you ignored sandrone's sharp comment about sitting next to dottore and pantalone. and columbina's rebuttal of seeing sandrone cry.
"the composition was crafted from love and death. it'd be difficult to sit through it without shedding a tear." your voice was a low hum.
"perhaps a rendition?" rosalyne teased lightly, though peruere did seem interested. you shook your head.
"perhaps another time." the fair lady frowned slightly but didn't push.
she had seen you grow from a warm-hearted child to an antisocial teenager, the curse consuming and eroding your being. alongside it, you had developed a thirst for power that wasn't there before, spending more and more time researching abyssal energy and the ley lines.
inazuma was a region you knew little about, even through all the literature in the palace. rosalyne had promised to bring back a few light novels and to tell you about the region when she got back, as she did every time she departed for a nation.
only this time, nothing but ashes came back.
09: the regrator, pantalone.
you met feofan before he became a harbinger, one of zandik's experiments. originally, he was just a name in passing after a check up, though the doctor eventually began talking about him more in his pursuit of an elixir of immortality.
he was much like zandik in terms of ambition, a man born with nothing who hated the gods for interfering in mortal affairs. you didn't think much of him until he became a harbinger by zandik's recommendation. it was then that he and zandik were rarely seen apart, even during your checkups.
your blood was one of the materials zandik sought to try and craft an elixir of immortality. while it didn't work on him, it did for the chain-smoker. despite his hatred for the gods, it seemed the rule didn't apply for you. he felt indebted, even if he never said it out loud.
most of the time, his actions were subtle. you'd open the doors to your chambers and you'd find various assortments of sweets or silks from liyue. he was the reason you owned a cello, finding it in your room after a particularly bad winter night.
"are cigarettes really worth another set of lungs, feofan?" you asked once, nose wrinkling slightly from the smell. you had made yourself comfortable in his office, the room warm and covered with thick tapestries and carpets in front of the hearth. his smile was small and he answered with a hum.
"life's simple pleasures will always have a place. besides, there's nothing a good cigarette can't fix. i may as well make use of immortality to appreciate it thoroughly." you rolled your eyes.
"no being in teyvat is truly immortal. even the gods you hate will eventually erode to the works of time and death. it's only a matter of duration." he gave a light chuckle to your words and simply let out another puff of thick smoke.
"that just gives me more reason to take pleasure in these vices."
one time, he offered you a sip of his wine. he knew you wouldn't get any older physically, but your life was limited, so why not give you a glimpse of adulthood? it was only the one time, both because you spat out the bitter drink and stained a very expensive coat of his, and because he had been reprimanded by the rooster.
part of you knew the man would die not much longer after you eroded, the elixir no longer having a donor for the immortal aspect. you knew he knew, but he always told you the same thing. forget the past, live in the present, and ignore the future.
"if everyone had the same mentality you did, the world would cease to exist." you said over the gentle weeping of the piano dottore played. "equal attention to the three are necessary for survival."
"they distract from the moment. could you imagine being focused on something you couldn't control that you miss the time you spend with a good bottle of wine or comrades?"
needless to say, you appreciated his somewhat absurdist view on the passage of time, even if you couldn't relate to it.
you wanted to take fate into your own hands.
10: ???
11: childe, tartaglia.
you refused to see him for the longest time. it wasn't just because the rooster had personally sought him out at an absurdly young age, but because your mind betrayed you. instead of seeing ginger hair and deep blue eyes, your brain changed his features to a platinum white and eyes that held the four pointed star.
the fourteen year old didn't know who you were, a result of centuries of hiding away in the palace because of your curse. but all he knew was that you were mentored by the strongest man there was. and that was enough to get him to plague every walk around zapolyarny palace.
you'd leave your chambers and walk around the corridors only to have a second set of footsteps imitating yours. you'd shoot him a pointed, but heatless glare through your mask to try and get him to stay away, only for the boy to stubbornly follow you. eventually, his presence became expected and you'd save him a seat next to you in one of the drawing rooms.
"stubborn child, why do you insist on following me like a stray?" you demanded once, watching the boy take multiple biscuits from the serving stand on the coffee table, completely ignoring the warm cup of tea in front of him. he stuffed one in his mouth.
"cause you're the captain's student. he refuses to duel me." he stated, as if it made perfect sense for one of the strongest humans alive to duel a fourteen year old boy. "and if i beat you, then he'll be sure to consider me as a fine duelist."
you sighed in disbelief and continued drinking your tea.
you didn't think much of it until you started realizing more and more lower ranking fatui members were coming back injured from training. when you observed the training one day, you realized that it was childe's doing. despite his age and childish behavior, he had an intense bloodlust not even some vengeful gods had.
you indulged one day, picking up a wooden sword from one of the many racks lined up against the wall and walked over to the ginger, who stood over a well beaten pyro agent. his eyes lit up with adrenaline and he rushed forward, swinging his wooden staff. it only hit air as you side stepped it easily along with the other swings and grabbed him from the back of his collar like a petulant brat.
"what gives?!" he complained, freeing himself from your grip. you huffed lightly.
"if you cannot land a single hit on me, how do you expect the captain to duel you." you watched him huff with disappointment. you sighed through your nose and set the wooden blade down.
"from now, you come to me. other harbingers have already complained that their fatuus are out of commission because of your ruthlessness. understood?" you ordered. his eyes twinkled with satisfaction and victory. you won the battle, but he won the war.
of course, your duels often consisted of his calculated swinging that hit air and your constant side stepping before poking him with the end of the wooden blade or simply making him fall on his ass.
though, you felt.. proud.
once he was tired enough, you'd sit him on a couch and give him sweets. it was in those moments where he'd tell you about his family, especially his younger brother teucer. you listened out of politeness, but inwardly, anger consumed you. you knew the rooster was only taking care of his family as a way to control and manipulate ajax.
with time, he proved to be an exceptionally talented fighter, especially after he gained a delusion. you actually had to carry some of his attacks and his movements were in tandem with yours. even some of his techniques with the polearm were influenced by some of your own, untraditional methods. but you did make sure to put him in his place when he got too cocky.
"at this rate, you might actually make me take this seriously someday." you said, extending a hand towards his form. he shifted back from his alternate form and took it. he had grown taller than you, yet he still carried that childish behavior. you had grown used to it at a certain point.
"only seriously? i was hoping i'd defeat you." after his orders to go to liyue, dueling became rarer because of the schedule conflicts. but after rosalyne's death, even going near you seemed impossible.
Quiet and kind, people swarmed to you with their secrets. They told you everything, from lovers spats to conspiracy, you knew practically every secret in Teyvat.
Capitano was your confidant. Every secret that landed in your ears, made its way to him. Little dates in a library or bakery always led to one thing: tea.
Hours between you two, spilling secrets and judging relationships. It was one of the only normal things in his life. Likewise, you enjoyed his company. After all, 500 years around the world leads to quite the treasure trove of secrets and he's been dying to spill them.
After the cataclysm, the curse overtook his body. His soul remains within, yet as his body rots, other things began to change too. It started small, a growl at an enemy, an instinct to protect those close to him stronger than before.
Then it happened.
It was a moment of rest in the freezing outskirts of Snezhnya, an area where the air was so dry that breathing was a danger. He was in small company this time, himself and only three more. Two of which had already started their journey back to the palace, as the message they carried was of immediate importance.
Which left the two of you in the cave together. A cave that was as deep as it was slender, so you two had to sit side by side. For warm and for the lack of space. The fire couldn't be large, but it was enough with the mix of body heat to keep you too warm.
You were an hour deep into a story about a time where you were on an expedition with Lord Scaramouche. He had all but ripped the heads off your fellow members, but in a moment of panic, you pretended not to speak the language. The sheer absurdity of it stopped him in his tracks, and he spent the rest of the day silent from utter confusion. You found it hilarious and had no issues telling the story to Capitano, because with all the time you spent together, you came to find he was quite the gossip.
Throughout the story, Capitano had slowly moved to wrap an arm around you. That scratching instinct ordering that he keep you warm. And then, right as you finished with a hearty laugh, you heard it.
You almost missed it; a deep rumble that resonated in your spine. The laugh was cut short as you perked up, searching for the origin of the sound. Only to find it was Capitano.
He turned his head away, trying to pretend that it wasn't happening, but you could feel the bass coming from him. Jaw on the floor, you stuttered out the dreaded question: "A-are... are you purring?"
The silence was telling.
He tried to explain, citing that he had no control over the changes done to his body, but you weren't really listening. All you could think about was how cute it was. You had always thought that The Captain was very cat-like, but this was so far beyond that, it felt down right criminal.
For the rest of the time, you couldn't help but move closer, wanting to feel the rumbling as you layed down side by side. It lolled you to sleep while he told you of the curses side effects.
You were the only one to ever know. Keeping the secret was no issue, but you couldn't help but try to pull another purr from him every chance you got. Which, you came to find, was easier than expected.
Capitano found himself no longer minding the purr, so long as it was for you. And you relished in the intimacy of it. A secret, just for you two.
